Slab City Poker, from Bo Keely

November 3, 2016 |

 The first of the month rolled in and the monthly Slab City poker players gathered in a shantytown trailer and pulled $100 bills from their pockets.

They had just collected their first-of-the-month government checks making it the big night out on this outlaw town on sand in southern California. Each swallowed or shot methamphetamine, and anted one hundred.

The night after Halloween is when the real ghouls came out to trick and treat.

A kitchen timer in front of a kerosene lantern before a broken window was set for one hour, and began ticking.

Eight men circled the poker pot on a spool table, as their pupils enlarged to saucers. At Go! they wedged through the trailer door in a land rush sprint. The goal was each to work his way under the cloak of darkness undetected across the town of 300 souls stealing whatever they could get their hands on.

Whoever returned with the most loot before the timer rang would win the pot.

The strategies were to go light and carry everything in covering the most ground; most took backpacks, bags, or suitcases. But Irish Adam would return the winner with a shopping cart (at the sacrifice of speed and risk of detection) full of booty.

When the timer rang, the stolen items were tallied. Irish gathered the dough, and shouted, 'Meth on the house!'

Amarillo Slim said, 'Seldom do the lambs slaughter the butchers,' but a posse is forming to put an end to the first of the month poker games.





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